


Made

by RavenZaiyo



Series: Songs About Strings [7]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-22 23:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20330524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenZaiyo/pseuds/RavenZaiyo
Summary: Memory is a double edged sword. It will warm you just as it will warn you. And just like a memory, dreams can twist a fragile mind to do horrifying things in the name of helping the ones you love most.





	Made

**Author's Note:**

> Back on my bullshit with another tragic romance oneshot. Got another one in progress. Working overtime and still depressed.
> 
> Sure wish i had some semblance of control in my life, but I guess my desires for any positive feelings makes for great short stories? idk, i'm more excited about the next short story, so yeah.
> 
> This story is based on the song "Stranded" by Gojira. The song is embedded in the story, but if you aren't a fan of this type of music (no shame in that), I'll include the lyrics here, as they set the tone of this story. The music video (once again, embedded below) will give an extra layer to it, if you're interested. Love you guys, hope you enjoy!
> 
> "A growing sickness in the heart  
Defective, lack of control  
The cure is somewhere in the silence  
But I'm crushed by the noise inside
> 
> Don't lock the door on me  
You'd kill me, face down, dead  
Another part of me falls for you
> 
> Another day in the dark  
No, no  
Stranded in the night  
Stranded in the cold
> 
> Don't lock the door on me  
You'd kill me, face down, dead  
Another part of you gone to waste  
Please hear me out  
You kill me, face down, dead  
Another day in the dark
> 
> Don't lock the door on me  
You'd kill me, face down, dead  
Another part of you gone to waste  
Please hear me out  
You kill me, face down, dead  
Another day in the dark
> 
> Leave the moment alone  
Leave the moment alone  
Leave the moment alone  
Leave the moment alone"

Memory is a double edged sword. It will warm you just as it will warn you. And just like a memory, dreams can twist a fragile mind to do horrifying things in the name of helping the ones you love most.

As one would expect, it didn't seem bad in the beginning. He'd met you through the message boards connected to his music streaming channel. You were concerned and he was weak. You captured his attention, and later his heart.

As time went on, he began to confide in you about his nightmares, about his possible making, his confusion and lack of a solid concept of self. You listened, always supportive, though if you really believed him he had no real clue.   


On some level, he didn't need or expect belief. He just needed to excise these dreams. These memories. And all the fear and paranoia they brought with them. No matter how hard he tried, however, the dreams persisted. The memories grew clearer. His mind was a haze of panic, jumping at every shadow.

Avoiding sleep made things worse. He would eventually pass out only to wake up in unfamiliar places, feeling like something between oil and water.

You were his only salvation. You were the only thing that made him forget how fucked up he was.   


The budding love was still early. Fragile. He was terrified of losing you. You were so kind, staying on the phone or voice chat with him as he fought or faced sleep. There were times he could almost feel your fingers gently caressing him as he tried to relax.

He wanted you. He hoped it wasn't projection or vanity, but he was sure you wanted him too. 

  
  


There was a complication. Strings found himself struggling more and more as the memories and dreams began to take over, the two identities within him attempting to separate.   


You took it upon yourself to go to him.   


Strings had thought at first you were another hallucination. He only realized you might be real when you were crying in fear of him. For one bleak moment, all the complexities sank back and revealed the reality that he had almost hurt you.

You brought him back from that edge. So kind that it hurt him. Too understanding.

He feared for you.

He wanted you.

  
  


Despite his illness, his love for you-- and yours for him-- only seemed to grow. There were brief times of recovery, and during them you would see who he really could be if he would stop falling apart.

You threw yourself into research, looking for any way to save him.

He still talked about his dreams. He spoke about a white room with blackened grout. A room with handwritten reports stacked upon the desks, lining the shelves. A room that had been sealed off.

You asked if he could access it. Maybe the key to saving him was there. Maybe facing the source of the memories, the key location of where he was made… perhaps it could stabilize him somehow.

This was a mistake.

  
  


The creature in the mirror across from him was never present anywhere but his nightmares. Strings stared at it as you rummaged through the paperwork. It was all encoded. In your frustration, you didn't notice how Strings' began to approach the mirror, how his hands began to twitch.

You looked, saw Strings looking straight into the mirror, but the thing in the mirror looked only at you. White pinpricks of light danced violently in gaping, wound-like holes in a face resembling a white mask. Hands dripping black matter groped at the mirror's edge, as if fighting to escape.

Strings looked at you, head cocked unnaturally. One of his eyelights had narrowed to a pinprick and seemed to rocket about in the socket, blurring.

You called to him, and he flinched as if stricken. You came to the belated realization that this was a bad situation.

He stumbled toward you, his normal eye hard. You froze, barely managing not to scream. He trapped you against the wall. His bones began to creak and pop unsettlingly. The wall behind you transformed and opened, and he shut it immediately after you fell backwards into a cell-like room.   


There was a barred window in the door. You watched it from a distance, maintaining that terrible eye contact with him.

It was somewhere in those eyes that you saw it. He locked you in here to save you from him.

  
  


His moments of clarity came less often and barely lasted. You'd managed to sneak out of the cell while he slept, gathering files and returning to the room. The last time you tried this, however…

When you had stumbled, you hit your toe and dropped the reports, which noisily scattered across the floor. Like a beast, Strings slowly rose from the floor and turned to you. You tried to move back for the door but it closed behind your back.

His popping, twisting fingers glowed with the use of that magic.

Strings was nearly mindless, you knew. But in that state, some things didn't change. He loved you. He wanted you. You still made the pain stop.

He came closer. A growl bled into a pitiful whine. You flattened against the door. His eyelights darted between your eyes. There was an audible silence devoid of breath, of thought.   


He glanced at your mouth.

Silence built, your immobility wore off. You extended a shaking hand to touch his face. Another pitiful whine.

He didn't feel like bone. He felt like wet clay, only he didn't leave substance on your skin.   


Your legs felt like they weren't there. You wobbled. You might have made a sound.

He pulled you away from the wall, flush against his body. You clutched helplessly to him, praying for some shred of self to return to him.   


You resolved. If this helped… it couldn't be that bad.

  
  


His face buried into your neck, inhaling your scent. You could almost convince yourself he was kissing your skin. You felt him lowering you down on the floor. Felt so many hands.

You held his face in your hands, closed your eyes, and willed him to come back to you. He kissed away your tears, the otherworldly make of him sinking through your clothes like the cold of the ground beneath.   


Feeling him against your skin should have been bad. You should have been disgusted. On some level, that was what you'd expected to feel.

Your breath came ragged, one hand drifted down to his chest. Something moved within him there. Vibrations, like the chords of a guitar. Something that reminded you this was still Strings. Some part of him.

You wrapped your legs around him, heart stuttering at the feeling of his magic directly on your skin. That's why he felt that way. He was no longer contained. His magic was unstable.

You had no idea if you were right but it didn't matter as long as you believed in something right now.

Despite his ability to penetrate your clothes, the feeling of his magic made your body hotter. Your clothes felt too tight. Too warm. Too restrictive.   


Your mind felt consumed by him. Perhaps it went deeper. Perhaps this was soul-deep.

He helped you free of your clothes, and you clutched him desperately.

Somewhere in the haze, you managed to say it.

_ "I love you." _

  
  


You woke back in the cell, on the bed, with the door barricaded shut on the other side.   


When you clutched at the bars of the door and looked out, however…

His substance was failing. His sockets vacant. Mouth melted shut.

You begged him to let you out. He didn't move. If you couldn't /feel his agony, you would have thought he was dead.

You cried for him. Told him you loved him again. Again.   


He looked miserable.

  
  


A new door appeared. You could leave. You wouldn't leave.

You didn't mind the growl of your stomach anymore.   


Noises occasionally drifted, reverberating in the dark. Humming. He was still there. You couldn't leave yet.

The barricade beyond the door began to move. You pulled at the door, eager to face Strings again. The door crackled, and you yelped, letting go of the handle and reluctantly moving back. Slowly, he cleared the way. Devoid of light, of control, he entered the cell.

You reached for him, ignoring the current of magic energy flooding your senses, or the way your fingers sunk knuckle-deep into his substance as if he were made of mud.   


He allowed you to tug him, and you held him, kissed him, told him everything would be okay. You told him you were sorry you'd suggested coming here.

He was moving the two of you away from the door he'd come from. You assumed the bed would be the destination. You held him tighter, cried onto him, feeling that thrumming in his chest, weakened and faint but unmistakable. Like the beating of hummingbird wings.

You had to save him. You would do anything.

The other door groaned as it opened. Dust and dirt falling from it. Hinges and stone grinding.

You knew what was going to happen. You now fought to get free of him. You would not leave without him, no matter what he'd become!

A monster with telekinesis, however, had a distinct advantage over your pitiful and utter lack of abilities. The fact that you were nothing more than a starving, dehydrated human, too weak to fight, barely able to scream… it was clear you had no chance of overpowering him.

You had even less likelihood of changing his mind.

"Please, Strings. I can fix this. I can help you!"

No reaction.

"You're still you. I still love you." You put your hands over his chest, feeling the weak hum of his responding adoration.   


He stilled you with his magic. You could feel his pain, mirroring your own as he pulled away from you, leaving you in the doorway. He gave you a last, mournful look.

Too slowly, the door began to shut. His power kept you immobile, but not silent.

You promised to come back. You promised to save him.

  
  


Strings could feel you. He'd been able to feel you for a while. He knew when you were topside.

There was something else he could feel though, and it required attention he could not give. That's why he pushed you away.   


Part of him hoped you forgot about him. Hated him.

That _both_ of you would.

There was something growing inside you. And it wasn't determination or hope.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry i haven't responded to comments lately. they make me very happy and i love getting them but I don't know how to respond to things anymore. once my life stabilizes a little bit, i'll probably start responding more. 
> 
> What would make me really happy would be your personal takes on this story. maybe its parallels to others in the series, or perhaps just to the song upon which it's inspired.
> 
> Or. if you'd rather just have a taste for the next one, for discussion's sake... I can give you one word to hint at what's to come:
> 
> Masquerade.


End file.
